Taking Over Me
by DemonsInsideMe
Summary: Ginny is acting strange, Harry is trying to find out why but she won't tell him. She disappears for days at a time, skips classes and seems completely indifferent to anyone's opinion. What is going on? And who is responsible? Rated M for later chapte
1. Chapter 1

Ginny sat on the wide, stone window ledge next to her four-poster bed, her red hair highlighted by the bright winter sunlight filtering through the stained-glass. She sighed, hiding her pale face in her delicate hands. A quiet sob escaped her soft lips, seeming too loud in the emptiness of the room. She looked back up and out the window at the grounds far below, her chocolate eyes filled to brimming with tears, her cheeks wet with them.

"Ginny?"

She spun to face her unwanted guest, wiping frantically at her freckled face.

"Who let you in, Potter?" She asked coldly.

Harry stared at her with disbelief. He and Ginny had been dating for almost a year, and she had _never _spoken to him like that, not even when she was angry. Although, she was rather partial to hexing those who provoked her wrath.

"I, ah...What's wrong?" He asked, coming to stand next to her.

"Piss off," she replied venemously. She crossed her arms and turned her face away from him, toward the window. It was snowing outside; fat, wet snowflakes hit the windowpanes and slid lethargically toward the outer sill. She glared at them, angry that Harry had interrupted her solitude.

"Ginny, we've been dating for a year. You've told me everything that's on your mind before. What the _hell_ is wrong?"

Ginny whipped her head around, looking up at Harry. She had an odd gleam inher eyes, and when she stood, pressing her body against his, he knew she was up to something.

"Harry..." she murmured, leaning up to whisper in his ear. "What makes you think anything is _wrong?" _

She gazed into his eyes. Hers were still red from crying, and he reached up to caress her freckled cheeks with his thumbs. But before he could lean down to kiss her, she ducked under his arms and was out the door. Harry sighed and closed his eyes. She had never acted this way before. They had been completely honest with each other, up until today. He stared out the window, not really seeing.

"Ginny," he whispered. "What are you up to?"

*****

First chapter complete! I know, it's short. The next few will be longer, rest assured. Please read & review! Hope you like it. :)

~Jax~


	2. Chapter 2

Ginny fled quickly out of Gryffindor tower, following memorized passages and secret doors until she found herself standing in front of a blank stretch of wall in the seventh floor corridor. She paced impatiently, thinking of what she needed at that moment. When the door appeared, she darted inside, knowing it would fade from the outer corridor.

She stood in the center of a small, cell-like room. The tiniest sliver of moonlight slipped through the grating on a high window, hitting her face at an angle that whispered of a haunted life, and memories that no one cared to notice.

The room was minimalistic, extremely bare, but clean. There was a cot set up in one corner of the far wall, a wool blanket folded neatly at the foot. Next to it was a folding chair with an alarm clock on the seat. Directly opposite the bed was a door, which she knew would lead to a small bathroom. She walked to the cot, her bare feet making a soft slapping noise on the cold stone floor. She lay down on her side, pulling the blanket over herself and curling into a fetal position. She closed her eyes, feeling secure enough to let the memories flood back, bringing with them tears which she had suppressed since her last visit to the panic room, as she fondly called it.

*****

_There was darkness in his eyes, an unforgiving quality in the way he touched her face. As he captured her lips in his own, they both knew that she wasn't backing down. He had given her all the opportunity she needed to escape, if she had cared to. He had given her so much time to hex him, her wand pressed against his throat. And still she had stayed, her heart beating inordinately slowly, almost lethargically. She knew she would regret it later, but at that moment, in that dark place, it felt _so _right._

_Though his hands were rough and commanding, though his lips drew dark blood from beneath her pale skin, she loved it. She loved it when he whispered harsh words in her ear, told her he hated her even as he made passionate love to her. _

_She knew she was falling for him, had fallen and hit rock bottom long ago. She knew that without his silver eyes and soft lips, without being able to touch his flawless skin and run her hands through his silky hair, she would die. _

_Not to be melodramatic, but she knew that she would cease to exist, in the emotional and mental sense of the word. She would still function as a physical being, but her emotional reaction to anything would be minimal at best. _

_They held each other with wild, desperate hands, clinging to each other as if they would never be together again. After every meeting, he would get up, dress himself, and stare down at her haughtily, his mask firmly in place. _

"_I hate you," he would whisper harshly._

"_I can't stand you," she would reply quietly, meaning every word._

_And then he would vanish, leaving her cold and alone, longing for his warm embrace._

_*****_

Ginny bit her lip to suppress a sob, not knowing why she bothered. No one could hear her, and if they could they wouldn't care. She closed her eyes and fell asleep thinking of a man for whom she would never admit her love, and who would never love her.

- 2 -


	3. Chapter 3

"Harry, she's fine," Hermione reassured the boy for perhaps the thousandth time. Harry had related to her Ginny's actions and his suspicions on the subject. Hermione had been trying unsuccessfully for the past hour to convince him otherwise. "It's just ridiculous."

"But Hermione, you're not listening to me!" Harry practically shouted.

"Yes, I am. You simply won't listen to reason," she replied angrily. "It's probably just a girl issue. I'll talk to her tonight. You'll see, everything will be sorted out in the morning."

Harry glared furiously at Hermione for several long moments, finally giving up and slouching forward in his chair. Hermione, Ron and Harry were gathered around their usual studying table in the corner, books stacked high around them, discarded parchment crumpled on the floor at their feet.

Ron, as usual, was completely oblivious, staring dumbly at his Potions essay, scratching his head. Ihich was supposed to be three feet long, but as yet was only a few inches. He grunted and crumpled the parchment.

"Ronald," Hermione scolded. "You're just wasting paper now."

When Hermione turned to look over her own essay--which both Harry and Ron knew was perfect--Ron stuck out his tongue, making Harry snicker quietly.

"What?" Hermione asked, snapping her head up again.

"Nothing," the boys replied in unison.

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously, looking from one to the other with a calculating gaze. After a moment, she returned to her work, scribbling tiny words on the last inch of her parchment.

"Damn!" She exclaimed. "Not enough room..."

"You don't have to rub it in," Ron muttered. There were several minutes of silence while the three worked diligently, heads bent over parchment, fingertips stained with ink.

"You'd better speak to Ginny _tonight_, Hermione," Harry murmured. It almost sounded to her as though he was threatening her. She raised one thin eyebrow, causing him to lower his gaze quickly to his essay.

"Speak of the devil," Ron whispered as Ginny clambered through the portrait hole, her face flushed and her cheeks damp. Whether this was from the winter chill or caused by an excessive amount of tears, Hermione didn't know, but she would damn well find out.

Ginny swept past them, knocking Ron's fresh parchment to the floor and smearing the ink. She didn't even pause to say sorry, simply stormed up the spiral staircase to the girls' dorms. Momentarily, a door slammed loud enough to startle Neville into dropping his Remembrall. The tinkling of glass as it hit the stone floor was the only sound in a room full of students.

*****

Well, there you have it. :) Chapter three. Hope you like it. I know they're really short...I'm trying to make them longer. :/

~Jax~


	4. Chapter 4

"Ginny?" Hermione called, knocking lightly on the door. "Ginny, can I come in?"

There was no reply, so Hermione tried to handle. It was locked. She whispered the simple charm and tried again, this time succeeding. She stepped inside and looked around cautiously. Ginny's trunk lay open on the floor, her things tossed about the room. She scanned the five beds and found that the room was vacant. Hearing a soft noise emanating from the washroom, she opened the door quietly.

"Ginny!" she exclaimed, throwing the door open. The redhead sat with her back against the bathtub, completely naked, knees tucked up to her chest. Blood flowed from fresh cuts on her forearms and biceps, cascading down her sides to pool around her on the tiled floor.

Hermione rushed to Ginny's side, snatched the razor from her pale, limp fingers. She went to her trunk and fished out a small vial of purple liquid. She opened Ginny's mouth and poured the potion down her throat. It was a Revival Potion, meant to help her get her strength back. While waiting for the potion to take effect, Hermione cleaned the blood using a simple cleaning charm and began bandaging her up.

"Hermione….wha-?" Ginny mumbled, her eyelids fluttering open.

"Shh, Ginny, it's okay," Hermione soothed. "Can you stand?"

Ginny moved her feet lethargically, concentrating all her energy on standing. After several minutes, she let her head fall back against the bathtub. "Sorry…can't…"

"It's all right," Hermione said quickly. "I need to get you to the infirmary."

The older girl thought for a moment, knowing she could not lift Ginny on her own. She stood and quickly went out of the room, down the staircase and over to where Harry and Ron sat, reading.

"Harry, Ron," she whispered, her gaze flickering to few other students in the room. "I need your help."

*****

"What the hell was she thinking?!" Ron shouted fifteen minutes later. He paced angrily back and forth in front of the closed and locked infirmary doors. He and Harry had carried Ginny to Madam Pomfrey, who had taken one look at her and banished the boys to the hall. Hermione was inside, explaining to the nurse what had happened.

Harry did not reply. He was almost completely numb. What could have caused her to do such a thing to herself? Ginny was the most fierce, loyal, adventurous, strong-willed person Harry had ever met. Whatever—or whoever—had caused her to injure herself in such a fashion must have either incredible magical powers, or have such an emotional attachment to her that-

Harry jumped up from his seat against the wall.

"Malfoy," he said angrily. Ron stopped mid-rant to stare at him.

"What about him?" Ron inquired dumbly, his mind still on his sister.

"He did this to her," Harry murmured, and he knew with sudden certainty that it was the truth.

"Where is the bloody bastard?!" Ron shouted. "_I'll kill him! I swear I bloody will!"_

"What in the world has got you so worked up, Weasley?" A silky smooth and all-too-familiar voice. Malfoy leaned casually against the wall, examining his fingernails.

"_You!" _Ron yelled, gesturing madly. "_You did this to her! She's my sister you bloody fucking git!"_

Before Harry or Malfoy could react, Ron lunged at the slim boy, tackling him to the stone floor. He hit the smaller boy again and again, while Harry yelled tried to pull him away.

"_Stupefy!" _Malfoy yelled, and Ron was catapulted into the air, unconscious. The blond lay there for some time, breathing heavily, wand clutched in shaking fingers.

After a while he stood slowly, wincing at the pain in his ribs. "That weasel can fight, I'll give him that," he said, smirking ruefully.

"So did you do it?" Harry asked, clenching his fists to keep from punching the smile off Malfoy's face.

"Do what?" Malfoy asked.

"Whatever Ginny did to herself, it was not of her own free will," Harry replied venomously.

Draco did not reply. A look of recognition crossed his features, and he smirked to himself. He sauntered slowly around the corner, limping slightly.

Harry seriously considered going after the Slytherin and giving him a piece of his mind, but his gaze fell to Ron, who was still unconscious. It looked as though he had a nasty bruise on his head. The raven-haired boy sighed and knocked on the infirmary door.

*****


	5. Chapter 5

"Bloody git," Draco Malfoy muttered under his breath. He stood before the full length mirror in his private room--perks of being the son of a rich politician--examining a collection of colorful bruises that had blossomed on the left side of his body. His ribs, shoulder and thigh were all a peculiar shade of greenish-black. He smirked at the irony. He poked and prodded the bruises on the left side of his face. There was one above his eyebrow and another on his jaw, on a level with his ear. His lip was swollen spectacularly. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth against the pulsing, living pain coursing through him.

"Who knew the blood traitor packed that much of a punch."

He limped slowly to the wardrobe, where he selected a fresh change of clothes. He donned faded jeans, a long-sleeved white shirt and a gray hooded sweater. He returned to the mirror and examined his appearance. He fingered the silver cross that dangled around his neck, sighing morosely. He shook his head, then winced, remembering belatedly the pain. He reached up with his good arm and moved his long hair out of his eyes. It was late, but he would still have time.

He tried a smile, which turned into a sort of grimace, and shrugged. Then he ducked out, locked the door, and took a path that was dizzying and nigh impossible to recall. When he reached his destination, he whispered an unlocking charm and slipped inside.

The moon shone brightly through the high windows, illuminating the infirmary and making it simple for Draco to slip quietly along the length of the room. There was only one occupied bed, and he already knew who was in it.

"Ginny," he murmured, sitting in the chair next to the bed.

She mumbled something in her sleep and turned on her side, facing him. He gazed at her pale features for long moments. He reached up and moved the hospital gown off her arm. His expression did not change, but his eyes softened. Her arms were covered in long, red cuts. He didn't understand why Madam Pomfrey hadn't just healed her and sent her on her way.

His hand slid along her arm, caressing her softly. He brushed his fingertips over each scar, sighing sadly, knowing he had caused this. He reached over and touched her cheek tenderly. The moonlight had settled over her soft features, and he couldn't help but notice her childlike beauty. How had he ever disillusioned himself into wanting her to hurt herself?

He closed his eyes and allowed the memory, so recent, come flooding back in.

_~Flashback~_

_It was the night of the new moon, and not so much as a sliver of light filtered through the tall, ominous shadow that was the Black Forest. A dark, cloaked figure flitted from tree to tree, a shade among shadows. The snow had just begun to melt and the forest was thawing and stretching, preparing for spring. The figures footsteps were soft, yet they resounded in the silent woods like a gong, alerting nocturnal beings to his presence. _

_An owl hooted in the depths of the forest, and the figure paused, listening with bated breath until he could be sure he was not followed. Finally, he moved on, swift and lithe as a fox. Presently he came to a small, mossy clearing. A little brook gurgled and jumped through the center, its banks frosty with the evening chill._

_"Ginny?" The figure called softly._

_"I am here," she responded, stepping from the cover of the trees. _

_Draco pulled back the hood of his cloak, his hair and face illuminated in the darkness. Ginny, too, pulled back her hood. _

_"I've missed you," she whispered. He stepped across the brook and enveloped her thin frame in his muscular arms, kissing her tenderly. He did not reply.  
_

_"Do you love me?" he asked instead._

_"You know I do," she said, smiling. Her brows knit slightly in confusion._

_"Show me that you love me," he whispered in her ear. His warm breath ghosted across her skin, coaxing it into gooseflesh. _

_"How?" she asked breathily._

_"Do something that you would never do. Hurt yourself, or someone you love," he said, his gaze unwavering. Shadows played across his handsome features, and Ginny hesitated, unsure whether he was being serious._

_"Are you serious?" she asked quietly, playing with the clasp on his velvet cloak._

_"Dead serious," he replied with a smirk. A surge of energy rushed through him. He knew that she would do anything for him. She loved him. Love was something he had never known, either for or from anyone. Tonight he felt dangerous, as if he could utter a word and have the world at his feet. For now, just one beautiful girl would suffice. He held her jaw firmly in his hand, forcing her to look at him._

_She nodded as best she could, tears coming to her eyes. "I will."_

_He kissed her then, a long, lingering kiss. He pulled away too soon for her, but when she leaned up for more he pushed her away. She stumbled back across the brook, soaking her feet. They gazed at each other, one with hurt and fear, the other with contempt and something resembling pity._

_"Good night, Ginny," he murmured, stepping back into the shadows and pulling his hood up. _

_"Good night," she replied, staring at the place where he had last been, even knowing that he was gone. The silence surrounded her, mocking her. She dissolved into the shadows, returning to the castle just before daybreak and slipping back into bed before anyone even suspected her absence._

_Across the room, Hermione rolled over and faked a yawn, her exceptionally sharp mind whirling with possibilities._

_~End Flashback~_

Now, Draco sighed and laid his head on the bed. He had realized too late the feelings he had for this small, seemingly insignificant girl. She was strong. She would not have done this for anyone else, and he knew with sudden resolve that he loved her. Guilt tore at his gut, turning his insides to a churning, roiling mass of regret and hatred for himself.

"Stupid," he muttered venomously. "I am so stupid."

Next to him, Ginny stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. "Draco?"

His head shot up off the sheets, and he looked at her with tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I didn't think you would do this. I didn't-"

"Shh," she murmured, putting a finger to his lips. "You'll wake the old hag."

She smiled understandingly.

"Now do you see how much I love you?" she whispered.

He nodded, wrapping her small hand in his. "Yes. And I love you, Ginny Weasley. God save me, I love you."

*****

_I hope you like it so far! There's more to come, don't worry. ;-P_

_~Jax_


	6. Chapter 6

The sun shone brightly through the stained glass windows, its light refracted into a thousand rays. One of these rays sliced through Ginny's pleasant dreams, causing her to groan and turn over in her bed. Her eyes snapped open as her hand came in contact with something warm and calloused. She squinted, puzzled. But then the events of the past few days came flooding back and she gasped, horrified at her own actions.

Draco lifted his head off the bed, yawning widely.

"What's the matter?" he mumbled, blinking sleepily.

"Draco, what..." she paused, and then last night's conversation flitted through her mind. She smiled. "You really love me?"

"Yes," he replied softly. His face was not so young and carefree as she remembered. Crow's feet framed his eyes, not from laughter but from pain. He seemed almost-

"What happened to your face?" she asked, startled. The left side of his face was covered in bruises, and there was a cut on his lower lip. She ran her fingers along his jaw and forehead.

"Nothing," he said, turning his head away. His hair fell in a curtain before his face, concealing it. There was a long, painful silence as Ginny ran through the possibilities in her mind.

"It's because of me, isn't it?" she asked. It was less a question than a statement. Her expression grew stony as realization dawned. "Ronald did this, didn't he?"

Draco gazed at her steadily, his eyes full of conflicting emotions. He did not reply.

"Draco, answer me!" she nearly shouted, sitting up and staring at him incredulously. "This wasn't your fault! It was mine. I _chose _to do this, I _chose _to prove my love to you! It wasn't...he didn't-_Ugh!"_

She threw her hands in the air, exhasperated.

Draco sighed, giving in.

"Yes," he said softly. "Your brother did this," he gestured to his face. "among other things. But that's not important right now. I never want you to do that again."

She cocked her head to the side, confused.

"I never want you to harm yourself again, for my sake or anyone else's," he said, his fingers lazily tracing the scars on her arms. They were nearly gone, due to the healing potions Hermione and Madam Pomfrey had administered, but those places would always be several shades darker than the rest of her skin. His brows knit in thought.

"Oh, Draco..." she said. Nothing else needed saying. He caught the look in her eyes and captured her lips with his own. She was so beautiful, he thought. She was everything to him. But if his father, or anyone else, found out-

Draco broke the kiss, trailing his hands up and down her arms. "You know we can't keep this a secret for much longer," he said.

She nodded sadly.

"I know."

She kissed him again, her hands pressed to the back of his neck. There was a loud gasp and a shattering sound like glass, and the pair broke apart hurriedly. Madam Pomfrey stood in the center of the room, bits of what had been a small glass vial at her feet.

"How _dare _you! Get out of my infirmary immediately! Do you have any _idea _what time it is, young man?" She shouted angrily at Draco. "Out! _Shoo!_"

She herded him to the door and slammed it behind him. Ginny groaned and buried her head in her hands. At this rate, the entire castle would know about their relationship by nightfall. She laid back down, sighing frustratedly. What had she been thinking? She loved him, yes, but was she prepared to admit that to her friends and family? Were _they_ prepared to accept it?

Would Draco accept them?

*****


	7. Chapter 7

"'Mione, I love him," Ginny said. She and Hermione were sitting on Ginny's bed, a half-eaten box of chocolates between them. Ginny had, over the course of an hour, attempted to explain the situation with Draco, hoping that Hermione, of all people, would understand.

"Ginny, you can't be serious," Hermione said, horrified. "This is _Draco Malfoy_ you're talking about. You _can't_ love him!"

Ginny's jaw tensed in anger.

"So now you're trying to tell me who I'm _allowed_ to love?" she nearly shouted, swiping the chocolates to the floor, incensed.

"No," the brunette replied calmly. "I am simply trying to be rational. You know your family will never agree to this. The Malfoys and the Weasleys have _always _been enemies. You can't just-"

"I thought you were trying to encourage inter-house relationships," Ginny replied, her voice low and accusing. "This is no different than Slytherins and Gryffindors co-operating. It's just...a little more personal. Draco and I _love_ each other! Just hear me out. _Please _try to accept it. You've been great at accepting things and people that are different, why not him?"

Hermione sighed. Ginny had a good point. "Even if I did accept him, what about your family? Think about this, Ginny. Eventually, someone is bound to get hurt."

"Someone already did, Hermione," Ginny sighed. "And it's not like you would know how to love anyway. My brother is so smitten with you that you could hate his guts and he would think you loved him!"

Hermione blinked, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. That stung.

"Do you love him enough to allow your families to disown you?"

Hermione stood quickly and went to the door. She gave the younger girl a look, as if warning her against her decision, and then she was gone. Outside, the rain came down in heavy waves, washing the grounds and the stone walls of the castle. When the downpour stopped, everything would smell of the rain, fresh and clean and new.

Inside, Ginny collapsed back onto her pillow. She growled angrily, hating the world. She suddenly jumped up and started attacking the wardrobe, kicking and punching it so hard her knuckles bled. She yelled nonsense, taking out all of her frustration and anger on the heavy wood.

Breathing heavily, she sat back down, tucking her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She sighed, looking out at the rain. It was hopeless, she thought. No one would accept their relationship. If no one could accept that Draco was a good person, what chance did they have?

She closed her stinging eyes, biting her lip. Fat, warm tears slid down her cheeks, splattering quietly onto the fabric of her jeans.

If Hermione couldn't accept him, who would?

*****


	8. Chapter 8

It had been three weeks since Ginny had told her about Draco, and Hermione still did not believe that it was true. Draco Malfoy simply was not the kind of man a proper, law-abiding girl would fall in love with. He was a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake! She knew Ginny was smarter than that…wasn't she?

The brunette sighed, rubbed her eyes tiredly. She knew she had to knock some sense into the younger girl, before she did something completely unorthodox. Both girls knew that Ginny's family would never accept a Malfoy, especially one who had caused so much damage to her, physically and mentally.

"What's wrong, love?" Ron wrapped an arm around her waist as they walked slowly through the corridors.

Hermione looked up into his deep brown eyes. They were so alike, he and Ginny. They would do anything for the ones they loved, even if it meant harming themselves. They were fiercely loyal, but their emotions spilled over into blind reactions. And their reactions had harmful repercussions.

"Nothing," she said. The ghost of a smile flitted across her face. "Nothing."

Telling him what was on her mind would certainly spell Draco's demise. Even if, by some miracle, the rest of her family accepted him, Ron would not. He had seen Draco's cruelty time and again, his arrogance and his detestation. No, he would never accept it.

Ron rubbed her back comfortingly. When she got in these moods, there was nothing for it but to be here if he was needed. He just hoped that it would not jeopardize their relationship.

*****

Harry sat alone in the boys' dormitory, gazing longingly out across the grounds. So much was going through his mind, he could hardly keep it all straight. He tossed his glasses on the bed, rubbed his stinging eyes.

"Dammit, Gin," he whispered. "Why won't you be honest with me?"

"Because I can't."

He stood quickly, fumbling for his glasses on the bed.

"Looking for these, love?" she murmured, dangling the spectacles from one hooked finger.

She leaned against one of the bedposts, her slim body wrapped in a forest green ballgown, taunting him with a grin he could barely see. He made a grab for them, tripped over his trunk and fell to his knees.

"Ah, ah, ah," she chided, smirking in a manner that would have made Draco proud.

"Please," he said. He was surprised to find that his voice was high, scared. His heart beat quickly, stuttering, choking him.

She sighed in a long-suffering manner and dropped them. They fell to the wood floor and shattered. Harry jerked back at the sound. Bits of glass stuck to his palms as he searched frantically for the frames.

"No, no…" he muttered, feeling the vacant eyepieces.

Ginny hauled him to his feet by the collar of his shirt, like a child who has misbehaved. She pulled him to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her dress was smooth, like silk. His hands slipped from her waist to the curve of her perfect arse.

"Shh," she soothed. Without his glasses, he could not see the look of malice that passed across her face.

She guided his lips to hers, kissing him softly. Though her touch was gentle, there was something sinister in the way she kissed him. How her hands pressed a little too hard, the way her teeth bit into his flesh like a juicy steak…

What he could see, blurry though it was, terrified him. When her face was close to his, he saw the spark of anger. He heard her calm, even breathing. Her heartbeat never changed through the night. When she whispered sweet nothings in his ear, it chilled him to his core, froze the blood in his veins.

He slipped slowly into unconsciousness, the foggy vision of her crimson hair transforming into flames. They licked up his body, curled around his waist and arms, tasting him, burning him. He screamed and writhed, twisted away but they kept coming on and coming on, until all that was left of him was a warped, charcoal corpse, smoke curling up, up…

*****

_So if you hadn't noticed, I'm taking a new approach with this chapter. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. If you like it, please review and I'll continue. :)_

_Jax  
_


	9. Chapter 9

Harry groaned and rolled onto his back, squinting at the harsh sunlight streaming through the windows.

"Bloody hell…" he muttered. His head throbbed painfully and his whole body felt like he'd been mauled by a rampaging hippogriff.

He eased himself into a sitting position, swung his legs off the side of the bed.

"Good thing it's Saturday," he mumbled groggily.

He stood and made his way slowly to the bathroom, wincing at each movement. He couldn't figure out why he was in so much pain. There hadn't been quidditch practice yesterday. He hadn't gotten himself into any major accidents that he could recall. There was nothing to explain the searing, burning-

Burning. Suddenly his nightmare came flooding back. Ginny with her flaming hair, the tongues of fire licking up his body, singeing and scorching him…

He bent over the sink, splashed ice water on his face and bare chest. He gazed at his reflection, trying not to think too much for the pain. He propped himself up on his elbows. Catching sight of something on his torso, he straightened slowly.

"Jesus," he said.

The entire right side of his body was covered in dark blackish-purple ruises, and there were several long, shallow cuts on his ribcage. He quickly stripped off his boxers, turning slowly and examining his whole body. There were scratches on his shoulder blades, two pairs of five. Fingernails. It looked like he had been hit by a train on his right side. The left side of his body was untouched, but the muscles were sore, and the feeling was familiar. I was as though—

(_as though he had recently had sex)_

He gasped and stumbled back into the shared bedroom, searching for someone—anyone—he would have had sex with. The room was vacant. He slumped against the wall as the few memories he had of last night came back.

Ginny standing in front of him, her beautiful body sheathed in a long, elegant gown. Ginny straddling his hips on the bed, twin slits in the sides of her dress revealing her perfect, pale legs. Ginny kissing him softly, telling him to be silent as she made love to him. Ginny transforming into a mass of bright, hot flames, everything around them fading into black…

He opened his eyes, finally realizing what had happened. She had drugged him, perhaps given him a potion, something from the Restricted Section. Surely the professors would never allow such a recipe to be seen by a student, even accidentally.

She had drugged him, that was certain. The question was: Why? And how had she gotten hold of something so powerful?

*****

- 2 -


	10. Chapter 10

At the same time Harry was working out what had happened, Draco sat by the Black Lake, elbows on his knees, gazing across the indigo waters thoughtfully. A light breeze tousled his blond locks, and he ran his hands through them, pulling them clear of his light gray eyes.

"Dracoo!" Pansy's shrill, whiny voice penetrated his thoughts and he winced.

"What do you want, Parkinson?" he snapped.

"I've got a present for you, Drakey," she simpered, sidling up and sitting next to him, too close for comfort. He tried to scoot away but she looped her arm through his and pulled him back.

"What is it, then?" he asked irritably.

"I've the most..._delectable_ video for you, my love," she said, her voice becoming what she believed to be seductive. It was giving him a headache.

Draco sighed.

"All right, fine," he said, looking at her for the first time.

She grinned triumphantly and produced a video recorder, turned it on and handed it to him. As Draco watched the video, his expression grew progressively darker, jaw locked and eyes stormy with rage.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded.

"I thought you might like to know what your..._lovely _Weaselette has been up to," Pansy replied, her emerald eyes flashing wickedly.

Draco stood, grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her to her feet.

"Ouch!" she complained. "You're hurting my arm!"

"Where is she??" He shouted, livid.

Pansy smirked. "Where do you think?"

*****

Ginny groaned, ran a hand over her face. She sat in the quidditch bleachers, watching the rest of the team practice. She had elected to sit out today, as she felt a bit too queasy for comfort. The sun cut into her eyes and she winced. She had the most horrible, splitting headache, and she didn't know why.

She rubbed her temples, massaging slowly.

"Something bothering you, Weasley?"

She snapped her head up, winced at the pain.

"What...Draco?" she asked quietly. A pause, then: "You called me Weasley...You never call me that."

"I did," he agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. "We need to talk. _Now._"

"All right, keep your shirt on," she grumbled, following him down into the Slytherin locker rooms.

"I might tell you the same thing," Draco commented, turning to face her, eyes cold and accusing.

Ginny yawned. "What are you talking about?"

"Need some rest, Weasley? Didn't get enough last night?"

She cut him a questioning look.

"I'll bet you don't know why," he continued, producing the camcorder. "Well..." he pressed 'play' and handed it to her. "I do."

*****

_So...this story is becoming a lot longer than I originally thought it would be. I hope you guys don't think it's getting boring. Please review and tell me what you think! 3_

_~Jax  
_


	11. Chapter 11

**(A/N)** So a few of you have left reviews saying that you were either somewhat or completely perplexed. Hopefully, this chapter will shed some light on the direction I am taking this story. :)

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_One week earlier:_

Pansy Parkinson was in a foul mood. She had already destroyed everything breakable, valuable or otherwise, that was easily accessible, and was lying among the remains of a vase on her bed. She shared a dorm with four other Slytherin girls, but they were all so afraid of her that they usually avoided any place she frequented. And so it was that she was alone with her thoughts, hatching a terribly devious plot of revenge.

Revenge on whom? Why, that despicable Ginerva Weasley, of course. That sly little witch had slunk in like the deceitful fox she was, snatching Pansy's beloved Draco. The boy hadn't given Pansy a second thought from that moment on.

Mulling it over, Pansy found their relationship to be rather...turbulent. Ginny loved him enough to give up her friends and family. He had somehow convinced her to prove her love by harming herself. Afterward, the raven-haired girl could see in his gray eyes that he truly had fallen for the Gryffindor. She was angry. So very, very _angry. _

And her revenge would be oh..._so_ sweet.

She would drug them both. Oh, yes. Potter and the Weaselette would be so stoned out of their minds, neither would be coherent enough to know what was happening, much less put up a fight. She would buy the loyalty of a young and mindless Gryffindor, preferably male, and instruct him to set up a video recorder in Potter's dorm. Then the _real _action would begin....

She swept out of the room, pausing only to flick her wrist at the broken fragments of glass and porcelain. As the door closed softly, the vases and decorative bowls sealed their jagged edges and floated back to their respective homes.

*****

_Present time:_

Ginny stared blankly at the video. It was a recording of her and Harry having sex, and the date in the corner said it happened last night. She knew there was no way this could have been faked. Suddenly, she realized why she was so sore.

"Draco--" she began, but he cut her off.

"I don't want excuses, Weasley," he said gruffly.

Ginny bowed her head, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. "I didn't know."

"Didn't know what? That you were being recorded? Or that I would care?"

She looked up at him. "I didn't know what was going on. I don't remember any of it..."

"_Bullshit!" _he shouted. "You expect me to believe that? After seeing _this?" _

_"_Did you ever wonder how the hell someone got hold of that?" Ginny demanded. "It must have been planned, or staged, or something! I was _drugged_, Draco! Can't you see it's a set-up??"

She cried openly now, eyes red, face wet, salty tears soaking into her quidditch uniform.

"I thought you loved me..." Draco whispered, and his voice caught. "I thought..."

"I _do _love you! I love you more than _anything_! Draco, please!"

He took a step toward her. "Prove it."

Her breath caught in her throat. "What?"

"You heard me," he snapped, grasping her wrists. She stumbled, her back hit the wall. She was pinned, arms against her sides, face just inches from the sensitive, pale flesh of his neck. She closed her eyes, breathed in his tantalizing scent. Unconsciously, she extended her neck, brushed her supple lips across his collarbones. His head fell back and he moaned quietly, almost imperceptibly.

Suddenly his shoulders tensed and he backed away, released her hands as though they were red-hot irons.

"Prove that you love me by telling the whole school. Tomorrow at breakfast."

He swept out, slamming the door behind him. Ginny fell to her knees, face pale and tear-streaked, freckles standing out in sharp contrast. A sudden tremor rocked through her, and it had nothing to do with the unusual morning chill. He had issued an ultimatum she could not slide past, even if she tried.

"Oh, God..." she whispered. "_Help me._"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Okay, I hope that cleared things up a bit for you guys. :) The past few chapters I was just sort of going with what I felt...Guess I got a bit carried away. ;-P But now we're back on track! Please review and tell me what you think!

Much Love,

Jax :3


	12. Chapter 12

Ginny's insides were in turmoil as she walked slowly down to breakfast. She was late, she knew. Everyone would already be there. Ron, Fred, George, Hermione, Dean...Harry. Oh Merlin, _Harry_. This would be hell for him. Maybe even more so than for her. But she didn't have that same passion, that same fire as she did with Draco. She never had. Draco made her body and soul come alive, a burning, consuming fire.

She sucked in a ragged breath and held it, opening the heavy oak doors and slipping inside. The hall was noisy today; students were shouting and laughing, making a general ruckus. It was nearly the end of term, and everyone was finished with O.W.L's and N.E.W.T's. She sighed. Her friends sat at the Gryffindor table, as usual. Hermione caught her gaze and smiled, beckoning her over. Harry saw Hermione's action and glanced her way.

Ginny blinked. He looked like he was in pain. Did he already know? She shook her head and started walking toward the Slytherin table. As if in a dream, everything moved in slow motion. The noise in the hall grew louder, louder until it all melded together into ine humming, buzzing background noise. All the colors and shapes faded around the edges of her vision, and all she saw was Draco's white, white hair, his steel gray eyes beckoning her.

She reached him finally, stood behind his place. The others looked askance at her boldness, but Draco looked at her with wonder. Was she really going to go through with it?

She leaned down, whispered,"Stand up."

To her surprise, he did. He stood next to her, towering above her small frame, waiting.

"Draco," she said, mustering some volume to back up her statement. "I love you."

She locked her arms around his neck, kissed him fiercely. Their lips slid across each other in a familiar dance, and his arms went unconsciously to her waist, pulling her closer, drawing her into his cold, hard embrace.

Then his eyes snapped open and he pushed her away, wiping his lips in disgust. He sneered, lip curling over his white teeth. Ginny stood in shocked silence for a moment that seemed like eternity. The hall had become eerily still, and she glanced around. Everyone was staring at them with the same look on their faces. Ron had turned an outrageous shade of purple, and the twins were standing stock still in the middle of the room, as if they were going to retrieve her when she kissed Draco.

"Draco...?" she whispered, uncertain.

"What the hell, Weasley?" he nearly shouted. His voice was cold, hard, and echoed across the silent hall too loudly. She winced. "Get out of my sight."

And she ran. She fled from the hall, the Slytherins' jeers clinging to the tail of her robes like some noxious cloud. She ran until she couldn't run anymore, out of the castle and into the Black Forest, past the place where Aragog had died, into the thickest, wildest, darkest place. Finally she stopped when the trees became too think, tearing at her robes and her skin, scarring her face and her hands as she fought them like hands grasping, pulling at her flesh. She stopped, and she cried. The salt in her tears burned the cuts, bt she wept nonetheless, unable to hinder their rampant paths down her face.

"Ginny..."

She tensed. That voice was unforgivable, hated, cold.

"_Go away, Malfoy_," she said, trying to sound angry. Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Ginny..." he repeated, kneeling by her side. She crawled a little way off, cringing at his touch. "I do love you."

"How the _hell _do you expect me to believe you, _Malfoy_? You just humiliated me in front of all my friends, _your_ friends...our teachers, the whole_ bloody fucking school_!"

"I know, and I'm sorry," he replied, moving closer cautiously. His steel eyes had softened, they were a molten mercury in the darkness. "I'm so sorry..."

"You think that's enough?" she exclaimed in a fit of rage. "You think I'm just going to _accept _that and move on? Stay with you even though you _reject_ me in front of everyone I've ever cared about? No!"

She hit him, balled her fists and slammed them into his chest. She wasn't strong, but in her anger she managed to knock him off balance. She launched herself at him, knocking him to the ground, hitting him wildly, scratching his face, screaming oaths and obscenities and curses that would have maimed him for life had she had a wand.

"Ginny!" he shouted. In a sudden movement, he flipped them over, pinning her small body to the cold, damp ground. He secured her arms above her head, kept her there until she stopped struggling.

"What?" she growled, turning her head away. Her fiery hair was fanned out across the dark ground, standing out in the shadows.

"How do I tell you that I love you?" he asked.

She looked at him, evaluating him. "You can stop ignoring me and treating me like dirt around everyone else, for starters."

"Done," he said, and his warm lips covered hers in a soft kiss. She wasn't done speaking, but she'd forgotten what she was going to say anyway. She moaned and arched upward, seeking more contact. He slid his left hand up her leg, along her well-toned calf and thigh to her butt. She was wearing a skirt, and her robes created a protective layer between them and the ground. She struggled to free her hands, but he pressed down with his body, and she groaned with need.

"Draco," she murmured, writhing beneath him. He reached down and pulled her shirt off, unhooked her bra, exposing her supple breasts to the chill morning air. Her nipples perked up at the cold air, and he covered the left one with his hot, wet mouth. She gasped and pushed upward, needing to feel his teeth on her skin, wanting him to leave his mark on her.

He groaned, shed his shirt and robes, and pressed his body to hers again. The skin-on-skin contact made both gasp in pleasure, and he moved faster, slipping his belt off and unzipping his trousers. His member strained against the confines of his boxers as he pressed himself once more to Ginny's pliant body. She wrapped her legs around his hips, arms still restrained above her head.

"Gods, Draco," she whispered, biting her lip as he thrust against her, soaking wet panties hardly a hindrance. Impatient, he pushed his boxers down his hips and moved her panties out of the way. He slid one long, thin digit inside her, and she groaned, bucking her hips. He added another, then a third. Both were flushed and gasping when he finally positioned himself at her entrance. For the first time, he paused and looked up at her, unsure. His grip loosened on her wrists and she slipped them free, wrapping them around his back and thrusting up with her hips. He moaned and dove into her warm, wet opening. His thrusts were even and gentle, but Ginny was impatient. She urged him to go faster, harder, stronger.

He thrust into her over and over, lost in the passion of the moment, and she clutched him to her breast, the heat of their bodies radiating and melting the morning frost from the ground around them. She shuddered and tensed, her climax washing over her like an instense wave. Her body hummed with energy, shook sporadically for a while, then she calmed. Draco still thrust into her, and a moment later he came, too, spilling his hot seed inside her body, mouth open in a silent shout.

"Merlin, Draco," she gasped, and he rolled to the side, laid next to her on the robes.

"I know," he replied with a breathless chuckle.

"You know that doesn't convince me, right?" she said.

"Yeah," he sighed, rubbing his face. "But it sure felt good."

"Such a boy..." she sad, shaking her head. She dragged her weary body over to him, curled next to him with one leg laced in his.

"I do love you," she murmured. "But you've still got some explaining to do."

*****

Whoo! Okay. That chapter was kind of graphic. ;-P Hope you all like it. Let me know, reviews are appreciated!! I finally got around to writing this chapter, so I hope it still follows the storyline well enough for you to enjoy. Sorry for the delay, I've been busy. Anyway. If you want more, let me know. If you think this is a good enough ending, also, let me know. :) I like to hear from my readers.

Jax


	13. Chapter 13

_"Ginerva Weasley, what the bloody hell were you thinking?!"_

Ginny flinched. The scarlet letter hung suspended in the air in front of her face, and her mother's shrill voice emanated from its waxen mouth, sharp and clipped. The petite Gryffindor sat staring at her hands as her mother continued to rant, the letter floating higher with every passing moment. The entirety of the Great Hall was staring at her, some with looks of fright and terror, others grinning maliciously. Ginny smirked humorlessly. With all the attention she was drawing, you'd think she was Harry.

_"He is a MALFOY, for Merlin's sake! You couldn't have used your brain instead of your hormones, could you?! You're just as bad as your brothers! Why, when _I _was your age--"_

At this last outburst, Fred and George raised their heads inquisitively, tucking something shiny under their robes, and Ron gulped audibly, swallowing the last of a steak and kidney pie.

"I resent that," Fred muttered to his twin.

"Very much," George agreed, nodding emphatically.

Ginny had tuned her mother's voice out long ago, and was picking absently at a dinner roll. Her thoughts had turned inward. Perhaps she _was _as stupid as everyone said. First, falling for Tom Riddle's lies in her first year, and now this. She shook her head; she knew her feelings were genuine. Glancing up, she was just in time to see the message, envelope and all, burst into flames. It curled into a black ball, edges glowing orange, and sank to the tabletop, where it broke into a million tiny bits of ash. These dispersed, leaving only a small black smudge on the mahogany surface. She sighed, glad it was finally over, and polished the spot with the sleeve of her robe. The others had gone back to their supper, chatting happily about the upcoming Quidditch match.

It was the last game of the season, Slytherin versus Gryffindor--or, as she thought of it, Draco versus Harry. She tossed the dinner roll onto her plate, no longer hungry. It had been nearly a month since she had confessed her love to Malfoy, and Harry hadn't even tried to speak to her. He barely glanced at her in the halls; when he did, his eyes smoldered with a fierce anger. Draco had become a protector of sorts, walking with her to every class and meeting her at the door afterward.

His perpetual nearness had been unusual at first, but both the couple and the other students soon grew accustomed to it. Hermione had tried to remain Ginny's friend, and for the most part it had worked out, but Ginny had seen her look of suspicion directed at Draco on more than one occasion. None of the redhead's old friends trusted the Slytherin, and why should they? He had blatantly rejected her for the whole school to see. Yet, many of them had accepted the relationship, whether willingly or out of some sense of obligation.

Ginny took a small sip of pumpkin juice and stood up, swiftly vacating the Great Hall. Ron watched her go from the other end of the table, mocha eyes narrowed. He got up to follow her, but a dainty hand on his strong, muscular forearm stayed his movement.

"Leave her be," Hermione murmured. "She needs time."

Ron contemplated this for a moment, then nodded curtly, returning to his seat.

Hermione watched the heavy oak door close behind her young friend, lips drawn together pensively. Regardless of what anyone else thought, she saw the way Ginny looked at him. The brunette had observed them together, and knew--at least partially--why Ginny loved him. She saw the way the redhead's eyes lit up when he was near, and how his touch made the worry lines on her face fade. When he encircled her small body in his strong, wiry embrace, Hermione saw the look of peace that came over Ginny, as if she had just had a good night's sleep or a hot bath.

Some of what she saw was indescribable, though. Sometimes he would whisper in Ginny's ear, and a pained look would cross her face, as if it hurt her to think of it. When he was away, the girl grew sullen and moody, never motivated to do anything or go anywhere. She would stare broodingly into the hearth fire, palm cupping her chin thoughtfully. And sometimes--and these times were the worst, by far-- Hermione would lie awake at night, listening to Ginny's cries, whimpering in her sleep at some unseen horror, her sobs echoing in the silent tower.

*****

Hmm. Intriguing, yes? Well, I suppose I'll have to write another chapter now. :) Please review and let me know what you think! I love hearing from my readers!

Much Love,

Jax :3


	14. Chapter 14

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR owns all, and she did an excellent job!  
**_

**_

* * *

_**

Ginny had never felt so conflicted. She was standing before the entirety of the Weasley family, all of whom had the exact same expression on their faces--as though they had simultaneously swallowed something large, mushy and rather foul-tasting. A hippogriff's testicles, perhaps. She smiled slightly at the thought.

"What the bloody hell are you smirking at, young lady?!" Her mother exclaimed; these were the first words out of anyone's mouth since Molly Weasley had called the meeting.

The smile vanished. Ginny kept her face carefully blank, using a technique she had recently acquired for locking others out of her mind.

"Ginerva Weasley, _what _were you thinking?" Arthur demanded.

"She wasn't, that's the problem," Percy muttered.

"Oh, I'm sure she was..." George said.

"...just not with her head," Fred finished, grinning cheekily. Ginny's jaw tightened, and she willed herself not to speak or move.

"What do you propose we do about this, Molly?" Arthur asked, his angry gaze still on his only daughter.

"She should be taken out of school," Molly promptly responded.

"We should make her stay home from now on, and she should be home-schooled," Percy offered, a cruel gleam in his eye. He'd always hated the Malfoys, even more than the rest.

"Take away her wand," George said.

"Make her walk the plank!" Fred exclaimed, and both twins thrust their right hands onto the air, wands held aloft like swords.

"Give her a second chance," Charlie's rumbling voice was quiet, yet it stilled all other voices in the room. Ginny looked up at him, chocolate eyes wide.

"Charles!" Molly squeaked, one hand pressed to her breast in shock, the other clamped over her mouth.

"Well, it is logical," Charlie said, narrowing his eyes at the others. "You should be ashamed. Ashamed! She's our baby sister. Your only daughter! Honestly, have you no mercy?"

The kitchen was eerily quiet save the ticking of the grandfather clock. Ginny's family mulled this over, concentrating very hard.

"I don't want your mercy," she said bitterly, standing, "or your second chances. At least, not as long as either of them keep me away from Draco."

She pushed through the stunned group, mounted the stairs to her fourth-floor room and began packing her things. She knew that someone would try to stop her; someone always did. No one ever just let her do what she wanted. Although a decision of this magnitude deserved some restraint, she was becoming rather sick of playing the role of 'weak baby sister and damsel in distress.' She could damn well take care of herself, thank you very much.

She slammed the lid on her trunk closed, locking it securely. She looked around her room one more time, making sure she'd packed everything she'd need. Something covered by the edge of her comforter caught her eye, and she tossed the quilt away. A small teddy bear, fur slightly patchy due to years of use, lay on her flowered sheets, its black beady eyes staring at her imploringly. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes; she blinked furiously, snatching the bear. It, too, went into the trunk. Finally, she was ready. She turned toward the door, only to see her twin brothers blocking the way.

"Move," she commanded, her voice gruff.

They blinked simultaneously.

"Gin, you can't seriously think we're going to just let you walk out of here without a fight," George said incredulously.

"Yeah, we're your brothers, after all," Fred said, stepping forward as if to embrace her.

"Get back," she growled. There was a disconcerting, almost evil glint in her eyes, which had turned nearly black. This could have been contributed to the shadows in her swiftly-darkening room, but the twins doubted that. Something had a firm grip on her, and whatever it was wouldn't give up easily.

"We're not letting you go, Gin," George stated, though his voice was slightly shaky.

"I thought not," she countered, and in a flash their own wands appeared at their throats, gripped in her small yet powerful hands. Her arms remained steady while their expressions changed from astonishment to fear to outright terror. "_Stupendio!"_

Both men flew backward and hit the adjacent wall, unconscious. Ginny snatched her broom, levitated her trunk, and shattered the glass on her bedroom window, vanishing into the night.

*****

I'm hoping that was the right word for that spell...My memory's a bit foggy. Hmm. I may have to read the books yet again! :P Please review!! I love hearing from my readers!

Much Love,

Jax :3


	15. Chapter 15

_One week previous:_

Ginny was peeling potatoes. By hand. There was a ridiculously monstrous pile of them on her left, the sink before her, and a lonely naked potato on the right counter. She scraped viciously at a large spud, taking its thick brown skin off in tearing, angry swipes. Two days ago she had arrived home for Easter holidays, and she had been promptly put to work, scrubbing floors, washing windows, cleaning mountains of dishes (she felt sure her brothers ate extra on purpose, even if they were full), beating dirt from rugs hung on the wash line, weeding flowerbeds that were still too frozen from the late winter to even _have _weeds. Her mother would gaze at her speculatively, as if trying to decide whether to shout at her or hug her; Ginny wanted neither, though she thought she could better withstand the shouting.

Why they thought such a small action deserved so much punishment was beyond her. She had only slept with the man, fallen in love with him, betrayed her friends, House, family, and probably even a few people she didn't know. Nope, nothing wrong here. She sighed and tossed another naked spud on the right-hand counter. Gazing out the window, she reached for another and began peeling. The knife flew along its rough surface, shaving away little slivers of it. She stared at her reflection in the kitchen window. Beyond the little square of light which fell across the front porch, all was velvet black and ominous shadow.

She laughed darkly, a lunatic sound in the oddly silent kitchen. Her family had retired to their respective rooms, though she knew they listened for her footsteps to see if she woudld try to get out--not that she would. They had placed so many charms on the house that she wondered if even the Death Eaters could get in. She shook her head. The redhead had made her choice long ago, even before she consciously admitted it. He could be cruel and unforgiving and totally insensitive, but it wasn't those times which defined their relationship. It was the moments he was kind, the moments he gazed at her and his gunmetal gray eyes were actually _soft. _It was the moments when he smiled, a real, genuine smile. It was the moments he made her heart leap.

She glared at her reflection in the darkened glass, hands working automatically at the potatoes. Her knife hand slipped, cut a chunk off her knuckle, but she felt nothing. A plan had begun to formulate in her very devious mind. Blood dripped lethargically into the sink, tainting the metal a dark burgundy. As she peeled, she wondered absently what had become of Harry.

* * *

At that very moment, Harry Potter was barricaded in the attic bedroom that he and Ron shared at the Burrow. He refused to be anywhere near Ginny, and had even attempted to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. Mrs. Weasley would have none of it, of course. She had sent Ron, Harry, George, and Fred on ahead with Arthur, and had herself gone to Hogwarts and escorted her deviant daughter home. The raven-haired boy hadn't seen hide nor hair of the witch in two days, and that was just fine with him, thank you very much.

He lay sprawled on the bottom half of Ron's rickety bunk bed, the room shrouded in darkness. The sun had gone down, and he hadn't bothered to rustle up some light--even the blue flame that never really burned. He'd never been good at it, anyway. The first time he'd tried, he'd nearly blown the back half of the Hogwarts library apart. Hermione had calmly explained that he had simply flicked his wrist at the wrong moment, and his pronunciation of the spell had been off.

"You've got to flick your wrist on the third syllable, otherwise it'll backfire," she had said, and he remembered how her hand had twitched upward as she showed him for the hundredth time.

Of course, no one could learn a spell, charm, or curse like Hermione Jane Granger. Being Muggle-born certainly had nothing to do with her competence as a witch. Hell, she far surpassed those so-called _'Purebloods'. _Harry sneered; they disgusted him, with their custom- tailored silk clothing and top-notch brooms and equipment. Despite all of that, they'd still been thwarted by the little frizzy-haired Muggle-born. She had the cheapest cauldron, broom, and even her wand was not high-quality...but she'd done it anyway.

He shook his head. Why the bloody hell was he thinking about Ron's girlfriend that way? Merlin, if anyone could read his thoughts, they'd think he was in love. He started to laugh, then sighed resignedly. Love, what was that? A myth, he supposed--a cruel joke designed by a sadistic, omnipotent God. Was there a God? Ginny had left him, and for the Malfoy brat. He thought perhaps she was after his money or his status...but this was _Ginny, _Goddammit. Ginny, who had grown up wearing hand-me-down boots and sweaters that were two sizes too large. Ginny, who had never had a Galleon to call her own. Ginny...who had _loved_ Harry once, and not because he was The Boy Who Lived.

He chuckled bitterly; what a piece of work. Who would have thought that the most innocent of the Weasleys would grow up to betray everything she'd known. But maybe...maybe he could still convince her--

_(convince her of what harry what)_

--to come back to him. She wasn't so far gone, after all.

(_not too far you say not too far but what you mean is its hopeless a lost cause)_

He was angry at her (_oh he was livid)._ She was a cruel, heartless bitch, and the only warning she'd given him was a shake of the head before she walked to Malfoy at breakfast that fateful day _(and face it you were hurt you were wounded cut and torn goddammit she killed your soul)_. But in some twisted, masochistic way, he still loved her and believed that she could change. Malfoy had brainwashed her. That was the obvious conclusion. He had used some sort of spell--perhaps the lesser of the Unforgivables, the_ Imperius_ Curse. Yes, that was it. That was it, and he would break it. He would--

_(just you wait and see she wont be coming back shes too far gone just admit it)_

Harry sat up suddenly; Goddammit his conscience was right. She was gone. He snagged an unlit candle from the bedside table and flung it at the wall. The solid wax shattered--shattered like glass with the force of the blow. He threw a second, then a third, then...he lost count, flinging everything accessible at the wall: a vial of color-changing ink, a stone figurine in the shape of a hippogriff, a wad of crumpled parchment (which, he noted, had little hearts drawn in the margins--probably Ron's homework), and several of his and Ron's shared textbooks. Parchment and scraps of paper fluttered about like so much chaff on the wind as he sat fuming, his arms too stiff to throw any more. The ink slid in miserable rivulets down the old wood wall, soaking into the threadbare carpet despondently. The cracked stone head of the hippogriff stared piteously up at him from its place in the growing pool of ink. In a most distressing change of mood, he began to cry. Fat, salty tears slid down his flushed cheeks, and as they started to run faster, the sobs wracked his body. The floor between his feet was damp with the liquid, but he paid no heed. The grief and sorrow at that moment was such that he could not have stopped even if the Dark Lord himself had burst upon the scene.

He lay curled on his side, the pain in his chest idescribably harsh. His tears carried him to sleep, like the wings of a great black beast. This sleep was not fitful and sporadic (as it usually was), but it was filled with haunting images of a small child. He was maybe four or five, scampering about a lavish garden in Muggle blue jeans. He was playing some sort of game with himself, running about in small circles with his arms spread wide, veering off to one side or another. In the dream, he stopped spinning and stood looking at Harry. He cocked his head to one side, red-gold bangs falling into his eyes. His gaze, calm and wise, disturbed Harry in the worst way--the child's eyes were gunmetal gray, and as Harry looked on (_unable to tear your gaze away you fool), _one side of his thin mouth curved up in an aristocratic smirk.

* * *

Hoo boy. Talk about fodder for an interesting twist. I keep meaning to tie this up soon...Let me know what you think. Should I try to end this tale in the next chapter or two? Or would you like to know more, see if we can't make this even better? :) Your call. Reviews are wonderful, please write and tell me your honest opinion!

Much Love,

Jax :3


	16. Chapter 16

_"**Love sought is good, but given unsought is better."**_

_**--William Shakespeare**_

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_"Draco."_

The Slytherin started, looking around. His darkened bedroom was filled with shifting shadows. The gargoyles over the mantle cast gruesome leers across the marble floor; thick, velvet curtains slipped in and out of the light shed by a full moon.

"W-who's there?" He whispered. There was no reply. He lay back down and closed his eyes; it was obviously his over-active imagination at work.

_"Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius, open your eyes!" _

He leaped up, wand clutched in fingers slick with panicked sweat. Something stirred in the far reaches of shadow, and he fired a curse blindly. The thing was not solid, or else not of the human world...The spell hit the wall and exploded, cracking the granite surface. A hideous face loomed out of the inky expanse, followed by what appeared to be a body clothed in black gauze--a wraith. Its breathing was raspy and grating, like metal on stone. It sucked in oxygen through a ragged opening in what was left of its face. It rushed toward the boy, monstrous and terrifying, its blank eye sockets devoid of emotion.

"_Draco...I'm bringing her to you...She'll be in your hands then. She's coming swiftly, young one, very swiftly! On wings like shadow, she arrives!"_

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_"_Bloody hell!" Draco shot upright, sweat soaking his hair, plastering it to his skull. His sheets were tangled around his ankles, and as he stumbled onto shaky legs, he fell to his hands and knees, chest glistening with beads of sweat mingled with salty tears. Head bowed, he sucked in clear, cool air.

"Bloody _fucking _hell!"

He stood hesitantly and crossed to the window, which was open, allowing the sweet night air to curl around him. Running his fingers through his unruly blond tresses, still shaking, he turned to slip back into bed. Just a dream, that's all. Just a figment of his imagination. The martians have landed, sir, and I am pleased to report they are friendly. He let out a short, harsh bark of a laugh at his foolishness.

"Draco?"

The muscles in his body locked up, one knee resting on the depression in the mattress where his back had been moments before.

"Ginny?" he murmured, almost unbelieving.

He turned around, dropped his foot to meet the stone floor. She stood in a shaft of pale, pale moonlight, fiery hair disheveled, freckled face chalky and scared. Rain had begun to dance on the sill, leaping at odd intervals, beads gathering on the panes and slipping down to drip onto the floor. Draco recalled a time that his father had taken his ivory cane to the boy for leaving his window open during a thunderstorm. Draco loved the sound of the thunder, and had only left it ajar enough to hear it clearly. He had been six. Now, the thunder rumbled in the distance and the rain fell heavier, the drip-drip-drip of it on the floor becoming louder and more pronounced. A lightning bolt ripped through the velvet night, shattering the darkness and lighting up the grounds. Silhouettes of trees and topiary seemed for a moment as black paper cutouts on the landscape before all was plunged once again into darkness.

"Hi," she whispered, though her voice was drowned in the rolling thunder and driving rain. She hesitated, then reached out toward him, unsure. In one decisive move, he was across the space between them, wrapping his long arms around her shaking shoulders. She was frigid, the hairs on her arms standing on end in the night air. He flicked his wand out, and the windows closed silently on well-oiled hinges, shutting out the turmoil of Mother Nature's fury. In another moment, a crackling fire ignited in the grate, sending little bits of ash and soot about the hearth rug. Paying no heed to the harmless ash, he made her sit on the rug directly facing the fire. He pulled the quilt from his bed and covered her thin shoulders with it. She still shook, but whether it was with cold or fright he could not tell. His alabaster brow wrinkled in concern.

"What happened?"

Ginny pressed her chapped lips together and shook her head fiercely, tears threatening to spill over onto cheeks already moist with the rain of the storm that had sprung up on her wild flight to the mansion.

He sighed, supposing she would tell him when she was ready. He seated himself next to her, draping his right arm around her, hugging her close. Her body temperature soon returned to its normal level, and he rubbed her upper arm comfortingly. The blond wondered what had driven her to make such a wildly unplanned journey. What about her family? Where were the six brothers to keep her at home? And more importantly, were they coming to get her?

Ginny dried her face and neck on the edge of the blanket and looked up at him, chocolate eyes enigmatic.

"I ran away," she said simply. Her voice was low and hoarse from crying.

"Evidently," he replied quietly."Would you tell me what happened?"

The storm raged on outside as Ginny considered this. With the wind whipping last year's old leaves about the lawns, and the rain washing dust from sidewalks and gutters, she began to relate the past few days, her voice becoming strained as she recounted the cursing of her brothers, Fred and George. Like some demented, gods' game of pool, the thunder rolled and grumbled. Lightning cut jagged holes in the night and water fell in solid curtains across Malfoy Manor, stretching implicitly across the miles of forest, mountains, and fields to the Burrow. There, Molly Weasley stood at the bay window in the small, homely living room, looking more at the reflection of her twin sons--sitting on the patched and worn couch with ice wrapped in towels pressed to the large lumps on the backs of their heads--than to the gods' fury outside.

Her small eyes glittered blackly in the stone-like setting of her normally cheery face. Her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, hands red from the hot dishwater, rubber gloves wrung tightly into one fist as her mind worked, chewing on the problem bit by bit, like some unsavory meal that must nevertheless be eaten.

Fred and George fidgeted nervously at the look of her. Suddenly the twins knew, as twins often do, that they were thinking the same thing. Their eyes locked, wide and unbelieving. They realized exactly where Ginny had got her temper, and it certainly wasn't any influence from school.

They all knew exactly where Ginny had gone.

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I'm so sorry it took me this long to continue! I've been very involved with the real world as of late...

Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. :) Please rate and review, both are much appreciated!

Much Love,

Jax :3


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